


is this the real life? (or is it just fantasy)

by citadelofswords



Series: the whole damned world seemed upside down [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, These Idiots, the cottage in the south downs features here (sort of) (not yet), the leadup to domestic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 04:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19310734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citadelofswords/pseuds/citadelofswords
Summary: For the first time, that evening, a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square. You couldn't hear it over the traffic but it was there all the same.Who was responsible for it, no one could say. They couldn't be sure, either, too wrapped up in conversations with each other.Whosoever's responsibility it was should possibly be credited, then, with what came next.





	is this the real life? (or is it just fantasy)

**Author's Note:**

> all good omens fic titles transmute into queen, it's just a law of the universe
> 
> SURPRISE MORE FIC i completely misread a prompt someone sent me on tumblr but you know what i'll get around to that one eventually and throw it up here
> 
> once again this is completely unedited and the title is from bohemian rhapsody

For the first time, that evening, a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square. You couldn't hear it over the traffic but it was there all the same.

Who was responsible for it, no one could say. _They_  couldn't be sure, either, too wrapped up in conversations with each other.

Whosoever's responsibility it _was_  should possibly be credited, then, with what came next.

 

* * *

 

 

They’re free of obligation to their respective home offices, for the time being at least, and as such Crowley’s allowing himself to gaze with pure besottedness (the only possible word to describe it) at Aziraphale. And Aziraphale himself is indulging in the food and explaining how he'd managed to make everyone in Hell fear Crowley, complete with wide hand gestures and a spark of intensity in his eyes that made Crowley, or at least the snake that was Crowley, shiver.

“— and we were always told, you know, that your lot were unnecessarily cruel even to their peers but I never really believed it because, well, you were standing right next to me. But Hastur—," his lip curls a little, right then, "—Hastur just picked up this demon who had done nothing wrong and plopped him right into the bath of holy water! And I would have said something but your safety was far too important to risk something like that, and I couldn't have said anything until after the bath anyway— have you ever had a bath, my dear? Not in holy water, obviously, just in general."

"A few times," Crowley says. "Mostly in Rome."

"They make bubbles for them now," Aziraphale says, and sighs a little dreamily. "I hope Adam replaced the rest of my belongings, besides the books. I'd love one right about now."

"Baths!" Crowley says, unnecessarily, and Aziraphale smiles fondly at him.

"We've already saved the world," he says. "You don't have to try and tempt me into it anymore."

"Right." Crowley sat back but he didn't lose the stupid smile on his face.

"But you're not wrong, after all," Aziraphale muses. "There's more mundane pleasures on this Earth than can be thought of just in one conversation."

"That's Shakespeare, innit." It’s been a few hours; Crowley is well on his way to day-drunk, and Aziraphale hasn't even noticed.

"Sort of, but— you know the last time I was in France was for Normandy? I haven't had crepes in so long. And Japan— I haven't been to Japan since long before then."

"We could use a holiday," Crowley mutters, "after the eleven years we've had."

"An extended holiday, perhaps?" When Crowley looks up Aziraphale's eyes have done that crinkling thing at the edges that meant he’s being endearing, and Crowley's wine glass refills.

"What do you mean, angel?"

"Well..." Aziraphale took a swing of his own wine. "We've been in London for a long time. Perhaps too long.”

“Yeah, you’re… probably right.” At least since the bookshop had opened, for both of them, though before yesterday Crowley would have vehemently denied it was what was keeping him here.

“We should go see the world we saved,” Aziraphale says, and Crowley blinks at him.

“Together?” It isn’t like they’ve never seen the world before, but… very rarely, apart from major historical moments (the crucifixion, the Revolution, the bookshop opening) have they seen it _together_.

“Well, perhaps. Sort of. I don’t know.” Aziraphale looks properly flustered and stammers for a moment before continuing. “Just, why stay in one place for so long? Why ‘settle down’? There’s so much world to experience, food to try, and I know you likely want to sleep for the next century but—,”

“Nah.”

“No?”

Crowley shrugs. “We don’t have any business to attend to. We could be like… like tourists.”

Aziraphale beams. “Exactly! Oh, there are so many little restaurants I could take you to in Eastern Europe— and the architecture is just gorgeous…”

Crowley lets him talk about food for a few minutes and, in a pause for air that Aziraphale doesn’t need, asks, “Would we… ever come back?”

Aziraphale hums thoughtfully. “I have spent quite a long time building up my collection of Infamous Bibles, and Adam did just go to all the trouble of restoring my bookshop— though perhaps the prophetess’s descendant wouldn’t mind popping in every now and then— why do you ask?”

“Dunno.” Crowley looks down at his glass. “Thinking about the South Downs, honestly.”

Aziraphale opens his mouth. Closes it again. Opens it again. “That’s only two hours from London,” he says. “We could go today.”

“I meant—,” Crowley makes a frustrated sort of hissing noise that Aziraphale recognizes as him struggling for words. “There’s loads of little— cottages down there. With gardens. And a library, I’m sure.”

It becomes instantly clear to the both of them that when they’d agreed they’d been in London for far too long, they’d both had vastly different ideas of how to change that.

“My dear,” Aziraphale says, and it’s quite nearly a squawk if not for the fact that they’re still in the Ritz. “Are you saying you _want_ to settle down?”

“You’re telling me you don’t want to, you want to go on— some sort of _honeymoon_ , and I thought _I_ moved too fast for _you_.”

“Well—,”

“You told me that last night, angel, don’t try to deny it.”

Aziraphale laughs a little at that. “I did. But, Crowley— going fast with you doesn’t sound so bad.”

They were quiet for a moment, and then Aziraphale adds, “And a little cottage in the South Downs, to return to?”

Crowley clears his throat, and then nods.

Aziraphale hums again. “Well, it does— it does seem silly to have two empty flats in London. Really. When you think about it.”

There is another moment, and then a slow smile spread across Crowley’s face. Not serpentine. A real one. “I’ll tell the plants,” he says.

“I’ll tell the books.” Aziraphale lifts his wineglass, miraculously full once again, and when he says “To the second day of the rest of our lives,” it sounds like a vow.

Crowley’s smile turns a little wicked at the corners, but Aziraphale likes it that way. After all, it’s the smile he fell in love with. “To _us_ , angel,” he says, and they clink.

**Author's Note:**

> i continue to be on [tumblr](http://citadelofswords.tumblr.com/) and you should definitely come talk to me

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] is this the real life (or is it just fantasy)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19800556) by [nantook (Yuugisgirl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuugisgirl/pseuds/nantook)




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